


Leak

by Sauou



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Crossover, Hork-Bajir, M/M, was just having fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8579011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauou/pseuds/Sauou
Summary: Jonathan is caught, and he's not entirely sure where he is, but he's working on getting his way out..





	

Jonathan wakes up with his face pressed into the floor and somebody’s damn shoe crunching his fingers into little balls of pain.

He opens his mouth and lets out a scream, but there is too much noise, too much commotion all around and his voice is just one of many drowning in the background. He yells at the person standing on his hand, and jerks it away, sending them off balanced but they don’t even look down at him, just step away, attention too focused elsewhere.

He gets up, dusting off his legs, and looks up too see just bodies. Bodies all around him pressing against him as if he is standing in a closet full of twenty people but there is air moving through them, a rancid stench that sends the hairs on the back of his neck prickling and his nose curling as he tries to slip past them.

Several let him slip by easily, they are recoiling away from the bars.

Bars, because they are all pressed in a cage, a small box full of people waiting for who knows what, somewhere underground, the walls are made of rocks and the ceiling is constructed of steel beams against stone, light shining cold down on them.

“Where are we?” He asks, but no one answers him.

There is a grown man next to him promising wealth to whoever frees him and as Jonathan looks around he sees something he should have noticed long ago.

A pool right in the middle of this place, full of strangely shimmering liquid that sparkles under the florescent lights, turbulent as something swirls just beneath the surface. Wooden docks leading up from the sides into the center of it.

_Clack. Clack._

The sound is coming from the other side of the cage, whatever causes it obscured at first by the wall of bodies pressing against the sides of the cage. But, one by one they peel away from the bars and step back.

Until he sees, some kind of creature that looks like a warped nightmare of a bird, standing over six feet tall and covered in blades. On it’s arms, on it’s legs, everywhere glinting under the light and whispering death.

His breath catches in his mouth and his fingers lock around the bars, cramping up. One foot shifts back, but his weight moves between his legs as he gets ready to fight.

(Where he would land a punch in between all the blades he has no idea.) But from behind the monster step two humans, a teenager and a middle-aged man.

“Help!” He shouts, before he realizes they are flanking it’s sides, the creature standing as backup.

His mouth moves, about to ask, to speak, when his eyes lock on the keys in the boy’s hand.

The boy steps closer to the doors, to unlock them, the man at his side holding up a gun to Jonathan’s face, which he eyes warily and reluctantly steps back, hands sliding off the bars.

The ( _hork-bajir_ ) monster slips behind the men as the doors open up, blocking the only escape were Jonathan to really attempt to run past them. (Not even knowing where to go, but he’s not that fool-hardy is he?)

The sudden realization that things were a lot quieter behind him than they were before, mostly crying, less screaming for help, and that they were _behind_ him, he’s standing alone at the bars there’s no one beside him no one to help.

Jonathan glances, just once, over his shoulder.

Meeting eyes with an man and woman, both twice as old as him, holding hands and clinging to each other.

They turn away.

The _creak_ of the doors scraping against the concrete floor pulls Jonathan’s attention back to the now open doors, framed by the men.

His gaze hardens and his fingers curl into a fist. Screams start up outside his vision and he has just seconds really, he’d rather die than - _whatever this is_ -


End file.
